


He Was My Friend

by Squooshytaje



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Death, If Minho Went with Thomas instead of Brenda, M/M, kind of short, tdc spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 12:56:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3489053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squooshytaje/pseuds/Squooshytaje
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would have happened if Minho had gone with Thomas instead of Brenda?</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Was My Friend

"I hate you!" Newt's voice rings out through the air as spittle flies from his lips. "I've always hated you! You're so shuckin' selfish! It was your fault we didn't get outta there!" the wild frenzy in his voice raises and Minho closes his eyes so he doesn't get any of the blood tinted saliva in them. 

"I couldn't bloody stand it in there because of you, so I jumped! This is all your fault and now you wont even give me the buggin' decency to die before I completely lose my shuckin' mind!" 

He feels his heart pound against his ribs in a painful beat as Newt screams at him, but he tries to tell himself over and over that it’s the Flare. That it’s not Newt. His friend wouldn’t ever say these things to him and even though it made him mad, even a little frightened, he had to stay put, to stay somewhat calm. Even if it hurt to do that. He wanted nothing more than to take barely recognizable boy into his hold, to tell him that he wasn’t going to leave him here. Not this time. Not after everything that’s happened to them. They’ve  _always_  been together.   
  
Newt has always been by his side through everything. He couldn’t just leave him like that. Especially not when his friend had grabbed the stupid gun that he had kicked out of Thomas’ hold when he’d come tearing through the van and street to stop him from shooting Newt right in the shuck head.   
  
"You don’t mean that." He says sternly, eyes shining with a hardened determination that held an underlying fear somewhere in there that maybe, just maybe, Newt really meant it. Meant that he hated him and that he thought it was Minho’s fault they didn’t get out of the Maze.  _(How was he supposed to know you had to jump through an invisible little hole that blended into the sky?)_

Newt just barks a laugh that doesn’t really sound too human anymore. Like he’s barely even clinging onto his humanity; barely even trying anymore. Minho wanted to grab him, wanted to scream in his face that he had to fight it, that he had to work with them so he could get to safety with the rest of them, wherever safety might be. Instead, he takes hold of the wrist of the hand Newt’s using to hold the gun up to his own temple and he starts to raise himself up off the ground into a semi sitting position.  
  
"I’m not giving up on you, Newt! I’ll do whatever it takes to see that you’re stupid shuck self is safe, alright!?" He says, so many different emotions welling in his voice, causing it to go up in pitch. 

“You don’t bloody get it! I’ve already given up on myself! There’s nothing left for you to buggin’ hold onto, Min!”  
  
Then, Newt sprung the attack and they’re off in a tumble of limbs and shouts. The gun gets kicked away from Newt, only for the Flare ridden boy to grab it again before Minho could get it away from him. It traded between them too much that when the loud  _BANG!_  goes off, neither boy is sure who pulled the trigger and who really got shot. It isn’t until the gun falls to the ground with a clatter and Newt’s suddenly pressing his hands over a growing red spot on his chest does Minho realize what happened.   
  
"No— No, no, nonononono—! Newt! Somebody freaking help me! Oh _shuck_..." He’s moving quickly, taking Newt into his arms before he can hit the ground, laying him out onto his lap as the boy convulses, slightly gargled noises leaving his throat. Minho’s shaking— not even the small, barely noticeable kind. No, his entire body is wracking with the force of his breaths and the shouts of Newt’s name. A hand against his cheek, smearing crimson onto tanned skin, is the only that makes him suddenly stop yelling and calling Newt so many nasty names for letting this happen to him.   
  
"Shut….Shut up you shank," Newt’s voice is weak and soft as he lays, dying in his friend’s arms. "It’s alright— Now I don’t have to lose my marbles for good." A slow, ragged breath leaves the boy’s lips as he tries to smile. Minho knows it’s not fake, but he doesn’t want it there. Newt was  _dying_. He shouldn’t be happy. 

“Minho?”The former Keeper looks down into those dark eyes, a soft noise — not quite a whimper but not quite a question either — leaving his throat.   
  
“I don’t hate you. Never have.”  
  
Minho just sat there, cradling his friend until the light died from those eyes, holding him and practically losing his cool when it finally did. His entire body curls around Newt’s like a protective shield as he heaves dry sobs into his chest. Thomas didn’t dare come near him, but the guy who’d been driving the van had come out and was trying to drag Minho away from Newt’s corpse. He kicked and screamed the entire way, saying they had to take him with them— that they just couldn’t leave him there to  _rot in the street_.   
  
His cheeks were wet as they finally got him into the car and he refused to say another word for the rest of the ride, only able to think about what he had done. He had killed his best friend.   
  
He had killed him and Newt had wanted to die.


End file.
